Adventures of a Despatch Rider eBook

CHAPTER XI.

ST JANS CAPPEL.

Soon after our return there were rumours of a grand
attack. Headquarters positively sizzled with
the most expensive preparations. At a given word
the Staff were to dash out in motor-cars to a disreputable
tavern, so that they could see the shells bursting.
A couple of despatch riders were to keep with them
in order to fetch their cars when the day’s work
was over. A mobile reserve of motor-cyclists was
to be established in a farm under cover.

The whole scheme was perfect. There was good
rabbit-shooting near the tavern. The atmosphere
inside was so thick that it actually induced slumber.
The landlady possessed an excellent stove, upon which
the Staff’s lunch, prepared with quiet genius
at St Jans, might be heated up. The place was
dirty enough to give all those in authority, who might
come round to see that the British Army was really
doing something, a vivid conception of the horrors
of war. And, as I have said, there was a slope
behind the road from which lots and lots of shells
could be seen bursting.

The word came. We arrived at the tavern before
dawn. The Staff sauntered about outside in delicious
anticipation. We all looked at our watches.
Punctually at six the show began. Guns of all
shapes and sizes had been concentrated. They
made an overwhelming noise. Over the German trenches
on the near slope of the Messines ridge flashed multitudinous
points of flame. The Germans were being furiously
shelled. The dawn came up while the Staff were
drinking their matutinal tea. The Staff set itself
sternly to work. Messages describing events at
La Bassee poured in. They were conscientiously
read and rushed over the wires to our brigades.
The guns were making more noise than they had ever
made before. The Germans were cowering in their
trenches. It was all our officers could do to
hold back their men, who were straining like hounds
in a leash to get at the hated foe. A shell fell
among some of the gunners’ transport and wounded
a man and two horses. That stiffened us.
The news was flashed over the wire to G.H.Q.
The transport was moved rapidly, but in good order,
to a safer place. The guns fired more furiously
than ever.

As soon as there was sufficient light, the General’s
A.D.C., crammed full of the lust for blood, went out
and shot some rabbits and some indescribable birds,
who by this time were petrified with fear. They
had never heard such a noise before. That other
despatch rider sat comfortably in a car, finished
at his leisure the second volume of ‘Sinister
Street,’ and wrote a lurid description of a modern
battle.

Before the visitors came, the scene was improved by
the construction of a large dug-out near the tavern.
It is true that if the Staff had taken to the dug-out
they would most certainly have been drowned. That
did not matter. Every well-behaved Divisional
Staff must have a dug-out near its Advanced Headquarters.
It is always “done.”